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T T 



BEGGAR VENUS 



A ROMANTIC DRSMIl IN THREE ACTS 



BV 




A. L. WRIGHT. 



CHICAGO: 

Ptinted fo7' the use of Actors and Managers, 



^4 



M 



COPYRIGHT, iSSS, BY T. S. DENISON. 



-/^3ty 



RIGHT OF PERFORMAICCE RESERVED. 



The Beggar Venus is printed for the convenience of actors and 
managers who wish to represent the play. The right of performance is 
reserved by the author and the publisher. Managers and clubs wishing 
to present this play must first obtain permission to do so from T. S. 
Denison. The charge for each performance is ten dollars. 



\ 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 



CHAKACTERS. 

Psyche, The Beggar Venus. . 

Roger Buckingham. 

Baron Wilanski. 

Ivan. 

Felix. 

Viscount St. Aubrey. 

Father Alphonse (a Priest.) 

Lady Shirley. 

Leila St. Aubrey. 

RoMELDA Shirley. 



PROPERTIES. 

Portrait, veil, money in notes, violin, tambourine, coin, 
bottle, knife, locket and chain, telegraph message, note, sketch 
book and pencil, revolver, easel, brushes, palette, unfinished 
portrait, bouquet, very short pencil, a scrap of paper, pitcher 
of water, and glass. 



BILL OF THE PLAY. 

Act L London; the portrait; the waif ; rescued. 
Act IL Shirley Castle ; the disdain of Lady Shirley 
and her daughter for the Beggar Venus ; persecution. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 



Act III. The wandering baron seeking his lost child. 
The Beggar Venus discovered in Roger's masterpiece ; con- 
fession and death of Ivan ; happy termination. 



Time of action during the reign of King George III. 
Scene, England. 

Costumes to suit that period. For gentlemen, embroid- 
ered waistcoats, cocked hats, knee breeches, powdered wigs, 
etc. Peasantry, coarse, ill-fitting garments, heavy, hob-nail 
shoes. For ladies, full skirts, sharp waist, very high collars, 
baggy sleeves, hair puffed at sides with combs. See illustrated 
histories of the period. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

Ji. means right of the stage ; C, center ; R. C, right 
center; Z., left; i?. Z)., right door; L. D., left door, etc.; 
I E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance, etc.; D. E., door 
in flat or back of the stage ; i G., first groove, etc. The actor 
is supposed to be facing the audience. 



Time of performance about two hours and forty minutes. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 



ACT I. 



Scene First, i?^'^?;;/! /// ///(^w^/;;^/.^ //<'{/ Viscount St. Aubrey. 
A veiled portrait of an old geiitlci/ia/i on sofa in corner L. 
Furniture of elegant design. Roger Buckingham discovered 
as curtain rises. 

St. Aubrey. [Entering from R.) The servant announced 
to me as I was strolling through the corridor that a young artist 
awaited me in these apartments, that we might have a conver- 
sation. 

Roger. I am he. Do I have the honor of addressing the 
Viscount St. i\ubrey ? 

St. a. Yes ; I am he. But I am puzzled to know what 
brings you hither. 

Rog. There is nothing strange about that, for I am un- 
known to you and the city. 

St. a. N^ver in London before ? 

Rog. Never before. 

St. a. And from whence, may I ask, did you come ? 

RoG. From Northumberland. 

St. a. Then, no doubt you are a descendant of some titled 
family which for long years has made historic that charming 
locality of England ? 

Rog. Not so, my noble lord ; I am plain Roger Bucking- 
ham. However, my uncle was an Earl. 

St. a. And he is no longer living? 

Rog. No. Lord Shirley died ten years ago, and I, having 
been made a member of his household previous to his death, 



6 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

remained under the matronly care of Lady Shirley, his wife ; 
that is, when my inherited proneness to roam did not lead me 
astray. 

St. a. Your nature, then, is that of a wanderer. 

RoG. I must confess that I find delight in recreation and 
travel. 

St. a. You are in the halls of St. Aubrey mansion, then, 
merely to gratify your love of adventure ; nothing more ! 

RoG. You are wrong, my lord. Listen, and I will reveal 
to you the object of my mission here. Knowing you to be a 
connoisseur of art, I have come to London with the sole ob- 
ject of interviewing you, and at the same time, to display 
before your eyes the evidence of my talents (Aside), if such 
they may be called. Ever since the love of nature made me 
an artist, my powers have been greeted with naught but ill 
luck. It seemed as if the fame I had fancied in my dreams 
was destined there forever to remain. But a year ago while 
idly rummaging through the chambers of Shirley Castle, I 
chanced to discover the faded miniature of an old gentleman, 
whose intelligent brow and beaming eye inspired me with a 
longing to make them the subject of my brush. From this 
ancient portrait I have painted one, and I have brought it to 
London {advaticing to portrait) that you may pass judgment 
upon its effects and defects. The servant has placed it in this 
room, and I will now unveil it to you. ( Takes the veil off the 
portrait.) 

St. A. [Surprised.) My father ! 

RoG. {In excitement }j What is that you say? 

St. a. Did you know. Sir Buckingham, that you had 
painted the portrait of my noble sire ? 

RoG. (With delight.) No, my lord ; you give me a sur- 
prise. Little did I think that this painting brought here for 
your scrutiny was the likeness of any one in the St. Aubrey 
line. 

St. a. {Nearing the picture.) How perfect ! 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 7 

RoG. (Aside.) Can it be true that this work of mine is the 
portrait of his father ? At first I thought him jesting, but see ! 
[Casting a glance at St. Aubrey.) He nears the picture, and 
his eyes are riveted upon the features ! Oh ! it must be true. 
It makes me feel so strange, and yet I'm happy, and I — 

St. a. [Inter n/pting.) Sir Buckingham ! 

ROG. [Boiui/ig to7v.) My lord. 

St. a. You are an artist. 

RoG. Only a student. 

St. a. But there is evidence of your becoming a master. 

RoG. [Doiibtingly.') I fear you do but flatter My antici- 
pations, I am sure, will never be crowned by equal attainments. 

St. a. But you have painted the only perfect portrait of 
my father ! 

RoG. Does it please your highness? 

St. a I am extremely delighted with it, Sir Buckingham, 
and I will now summon my daughter to the drawing room 
[Going J?.), that she, too, may stimulate your ambition with 
her praise. [Exit R.) 

RoG. Was I born to be forever the child of misfortune, or 
has some lucky star shot into the firmament of my existence ? 
I was left alone in this great world, an orphan, to the mercy 
of those who had not the kindest regard for my well being. 
But the Viscount says I am an artist, and his compliments 
seem to infuse into my soul a sense of something more exalted. 
It gives me a better opinion of myself, and I am anxious for 
the coming of his daughter. [Listens.) Ah ! Do I hear them 
coming? [Listens again.) No; it is music. From whence, 
I wonder, does it come? Rapturous melody! It must be 
some of the servants playing in the attic, it seems so distant- 
like. [Going up and down stage, at tlie same time listening.) 
They are playing the " Rakes of Mallow," that old, old air 
that I have ofttimes heard my dear friend Richard play in his 
lowly cottage up in Northumberland. But how strangely 
sweet it sounds to me now that I'm all alone in this great city. 



8 THE RECxGAR VENUS. 

[Listens.) Ah ! The music comes from yonder [Goitig Z.), and 
I verily beheve I can see the players down upon the street. 
[Putting /lis hand to his forehead, looks out window L.) Yes, 
'tis them ! A beautiful girl, and a miserable old cripple with 
a violin. They look so cold and lonesome-like out upon the 
pavement, and a chilling rain is beginning to fall, and a dark, 
cold night is coming on. [The music, which has been behind the 
scenes during the last lines, ceases.) But hark ! The music 
stops. [Looking out upon the street?) The players move along. 
They are turning the corner. How sad and sweet the girl's 
face looks in the glow of the street lamp ! But they are out 
of sight. Gone ; and again I am left alone in my solitude. 
( Viscount and daughter heard coming R) Ah ! They come. 

Enter St. Aubrey and Leila, R. 

St. a. Sir Buckingham! 

RoG. My lord. 

St. a. This is my daughter, Leila St. Aubrey. 

Leila. I am pleased to meet you. Sir Pluckingham. 

RoG. And I am honored by meeting you. 

Leila. My father tells me you have painted the portrait of 
my paternal grandsire, and I suppose it is the one I see yonder. 

RoG. Thus it happens to be, though when I painted it I 
knew not the name or lineage of the subject. 

Leila. A strange coincidence. 

RoG. Singular indeed. I merely brought the painting to 
London with an idea of submitting it to the criticism of your 
father, and now L submit to yours. [Beckoning her to near the 
picture?) 

Leila. [Going toward painting.) My grandfather died 
long before my remembrance, and all there remains by which 
I can fancy his appearance is his portrait on the walls of an 
ancient castle in Shottery. Though it has been years since I 
saw this likeness a look at the one you have painted brings its 
appearance back to me. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 9 

St. a. My daughter, there is not a portrait of my father 
extant, so perfect as the one yonder. [Foiiiti/ig.) 

RoG. [Aside.) Is it possible that the nobility of England 
are beginning to recognize my powers ? 

Leila. {Softly to St. Aubrey.) Papa, will you purchase the 
portrait ? 

RoG. {In delight) What is that I hear her say ? Purchase 
the portrait ? 

St. a. Sir Buckingham ! 

RoG. My lord. 

St. a. How much will you take for this picture ? 

RoG. Do you want to buy it ? 

St. a. I must have it. It is the only true representation 
of my deceased father, and money is no sacrifice when love or 
patriotism are at stake. How much will you take for the 
picture ? 

RoG. What will you give for it ? 

St. a. Sir Buckingham, for that portrait I will give you 

;^200. 

RoG. My lord, the picture is yours. 

St. a. [Going H.) Excuse me, then, one moment while I 
retire to the library. Presently I will return. {Exit i?.) 

Leila. How glad I am that my papa has purchased the 
portrait — glad because I know it pleases him — glad because I 
trust it pleases you. 

RoG. My actions, I k-now, do not betray my feelings, for I 
am indeed happy. 

Enter St. Aubrey R. 

St. a. {Handing money to Roger.) Sir Buckingham, here 
is p{^20o, and with it I make the payment for yonder portrait 
of my father. 

RoG. ( With respeet.) My lord, I shall ever remember this 
hour. You have paid me the first shilling my brush ever 
earned. My career, it seems, has begun by chance, and by 



lO THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

chance I pray it may be led through fields of everlasting glory 
and that the sun of my existence may go down in a cloudless 
sky. (St. Aubrey and Leila R., Roger L. Scene closed in 
by street in 2d grooves.) 

Scene Second. A street in London in i G. Time, late at 
night. Lights down. 

RoG. {^Entering from L.) How queer it makes me feel ; 
^200 in my pockets, and too, the Viscount says I am the 
possessor of talents ! Oh, fame ! How high up thou art ! 
But step by step I'll climb the rugged ascent. But it's getting 
late and I must back to the inn. [Looks down, the street.) Ah, 
the patrolman is on his beat. 

Enter Officer K., passes slozvly to L., and exits. 
But what is that I see coming up the street ? The figures of 
two human beings ? [Looks off R.) An old man— a girl ! 
That face ! The very one I saw an hour ago through the 
window at the Viscount St. Aubrey's. [Looks intently.) How 
divine that person's soul must be whose face so vividly por- 
trays sadness, sweetness, purity. [Excited.) They turn down 
the alley. I must know more of these people. I will follow 
them. [Exit R.) 

Officer crosses from L. to R. slozvly. 
Officer. Twelve o'clock, and all is well ! [Exit, repeating 
the above lines.) 

E NTER Ivan atid Psyche, Z. 

Ivan. [Gruffly.') Come along, girl, come along! What 
makes thee creep along in that snail-like pace ? 

Psyche, ( Wearily.) I am tired, so tired. 

Ivan. Tired, eh ? Thou hast no right to get tired. I do 
not support thee to be forever petted and fondled. Thou 
must dance for me ! 

PsY. But, Ivan — 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. II 

Ivan. Father, child. Why don't you say father? 

PsY. [Aside.) Father ? He makes me call him that. 
(^Turning to Ivan.) I have danced all day long, and you have 
given me but one little bun to eat, and I'm so tired and cold, 
and hungry, that I cannot dance any more to-night. 

Ivan. Nonsense ! Dance, I tell thee, dance ! 

PsY. {Fitifi/ily.) Oh sir ! Have you no mercy ? 

Ivan. (/// a stern /iia/iiicr.) Child, dost thou obey, or dost 
thou not? [Adva/iccs toward Psyche and raises cane as if to 
strike /ler.) 

PsY. {Aside.) O God ! Friendless and helpless that I 
am, is it possible that Thou in thy providence can look down 
upon me and suffer me to be thus in misery and torture ? 

Ivan. {More enraged.) Will you dance ? 

PsY. {Pleading.) O sir, no people are on the street at this 
late hour. The lights are going out, and it's only some filthy 
grog shop or gambler's den where the lighted windows are. 
Oh ! let's go along ! 

. Ivan. Not until thou hast danced for me. Dance, or thou 
shalt have no supper to-night ! (Ivan places /lis violin, to his 
neck and begins a polka?) 

PsY. Weary and sick, and yet he takes advantage of my 
weakness and makes me dance when my limbs ache so I can 
hardly stand. 

Ivan. Dance ! 

Psyche begins a dance to polka movement, during wJiich time 

Roger enters from L. unobserved. 

RoG. {During the dance.) Oh ! What mystic beauty lies 
buried in the depths of her expression. Stranger and wanderer 
though she be, I cannot help but pity her. 

Ivan. {Ceasing the music.) Now, Psyche, ask for alms ! 

RoG. {Taking a gold coin from his pocket.) I will give her 
this coin. It will keep her from starving, perhaps. 

PsY. {Holding out tambourine}) Thank you, sir. {Looking 



12 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

at the money.') That is more money than I have seen to-day. 
(Aside.) Perhaps he will not beat me now. 

Ivan. [Goi/ig R.) Come Psyche, v/e'U now go home. 

PsY. [Aside.) Home ! Is that what he calls it? Must I 
follow ? Yes ; I am the serf, he the lord. 

Ivan. (At 7aing 7?.) Come, Psyche, come. 

PsY, Oh, heavens ! Will the chains that bind my soul in 
this misery ever be broken ? [Exit after Ivan, i?.) 

RoG. Gone ! And before I could speak with her, and per- 
haps I shall never see her again. But I must. [Pro7>ipted by 
a sudden thought}^ There was something strangely divine 
about her, and her beauty transferred to canvas might win 
laurels for me among the crowned heads of the Continent. 
[Going J?.) I will pursue her. Oh, could I but make her 
the subject of my masterpiece. [Exit R. Scenes draw back 
disclosing the habitation <?/" Ivan.) 

Scene Third. Room in ivJiich Ivan and Psyche live. Ex- 
tremely plain apartment^ with broken furniture. A soap box 
or small keg in R. C, tipon which burns a dim candle. Large 
bottle sitting on the floor. Ivan provided with revolver and 
large knife. Psyche on a bed of straiv in L. corner when 
scene opens. Ivan sitting on a broken chair. 
Ivan. Another day hath passed, and the girl is still mine. 
O, they'd like to find her, but they shall not. [Brings his feet 
down upon the box.) I'll bafifle them to the last, if it takes my 
life. The profits of her gracefulness and beauty must buy me 
rum. I know they are on her track, but fortunately she has 
outgrown the look of her infancy, and they'll find it hard to 
identify her. But if they should, I would trump their cards 
with this [lirawing a large knife from his bosom), and win the 
game at last. I am sick to-night, and there is but one medi- 
cine that will make me well. It is rum ! rum ! Accursed 
venom that it is, my throat is parched for the want of it. Great 
black monsters [delirious) seem to be gnawing at my very soul. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. I3 

I am sick, and it is because I have nothing to drink. Rum I 
must have ! [Ejtdeavors to rise.) Psyche ! [Looks around and 
sees her asleep on ihe straw.) Ah, the girl sleeps ! I suppose 
she is tired, but I must have drink or I shall die ! {Ca/Iing.) 
Psyche, Psyche ! 

PsY. [Opens her eyes, talks faintly^ Yes. 

Ivan. [Cruelly) Get up and go and get me some rum. 

PsY. [Pleading.) O father, you cannot be so unkind ! I 
am tired, I cannot go. 

Ivan. [Still persisting.) But I must have something to put 
out this flame that is burning me up. 

PsY. I am too tired to rise. I am sick. 

Ivan. Get up, Psyche, go down to the corner and get me 
rum ! 

PsY. [Turning over as if going to sleep.) O let merest! 
O do let me rest ! [Goes to sleep.) 

Ivan. ( With elbows on his knees supporting his chin with his 
hands.) Well, I will endure the torture a little longer, for the 
girl is weary, and should she become ill and die, then where 
would I get money to purchase my grog? I, alone, could not 
work upon the sympathy of men and women, for my music, 
with myself, is growing old, and my arm cannot draw the bow 
as it could before I became so inebriated. They would kick 
me, while by reason of her grace and innocence they have a 
kmdly feeling toward me ; for they think I'm her father [in a 
lotv voice), and she herself knows not the difference. [Listens.) 
But see ! She dreams ! Her mind is wandering ! Hark ! 
[Listens.) 

PsY. [Ln a vision.) Oh, what a beautiful place ! That 
large house on the hill, the garden, the shady summer house, 
the winding path by the river, and the old gentleman with sil- 
ver locks ! Ah, I see them plainly. But what is that under 
the great large tree ? A mound ! A grave with flov/ers ! Oh, 
papa ! Oh, mamma ! 

Ivan. [Touched.) This is more than I can stand. Awake, 



14 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

girl ! What ails thee ? Thou hast been dreaming. Now get 
thee to the grog keeper's and buy me rum ! 

PsY. [Resolved.) No ; I cannot. 

Ivan. [Enraged.) What is that I hear you say? 

PsY. [Aff?-ig/ited.) Oh, sir, spare me ! I am sick. 

Ivan. {Going to box and getting Iwttle.) Get up, you lazy 
brute, and take this bottle to the dram shop and there get it 
filled with that which will make your father well. 

PsY. [Doubting.) My father well ! No, I dare not go out 
upon the streets to-night. You are cruel to ask me thus to do. 
Take a drink of water ; that will quench your thirst ! 

Ivan, [Pacing the floor.) Water is the child's beverage. 
It only makes me mad when I hear it spoken of. Go, child. 
[Handing her the bottle.) Fill that bottle with rum and hasten 
back. 

PsY. Oh ! I am afraid to go out at this late hour. Don't 
make me go. 

Ivan. [J n great anger.) Go! 

PsY. I will do anything I can for you, but I'm afraid to 
go alone through the dark alleys on such a cold, stormy night 
as this. 

Ivan. [Crazed with anger.) Girl, what though thy beauty 
and innocence is my profit, say one word against my commands 
and I will murder you. [Knife upraised over her head. Psyche 
on her knees at his feet with hands clasped toward heaven. The 
door in flat suddenly opens and 

Roger Buckingham rushes between the man and the girl. 

RoG. [Snatching the knife from Ivan's band.) No ; you 
will not ! [Picture.) 

PsY. [After a pause.) Oh, sir. Providence has sent you to 
my rescue. Had you not come when you did, he would have 
plunged that knife into my heart ! 

Ivan. [Coming toward Psyche /// anger.) And it would 
have been but a fit recompense for thy disobedience ! 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. I5 

ROG. [F Its/ling hivi back.) Stop where you are, villain. 
Any man who would strike a woman is not fit to live ! [A 
pause. Turning to Psyche.) But girl, you look tired and 
sick. 

Psv. I am ; and hungry too. He don't give me what I 
want to eat. Now that you are here to protect me, I can tell 
it. He beats me very hard sometimes (Ivan shows signs of 
anger, and endeavors to get where the girl is), and only last night 
he struck me with his staff and made that bloody'scar on my 
shoulder [shows a blood stain through a rent in the clothing), and 
now he was about to strike me because I was afraid to go out 
upon the street and get him drink, and — 

Ivan. {Interrupting}) It was only to procure medicine for 
thy sick father. 

Psv. {Facing Ivan.) Father? You're not my father; I 
know you're not ! 

Ivan. (Rusliing toivard her.) What? 

RoG. {Thrusting him into corner F.) Hold, scoundrel, or 
the law of England shall make you the subject of its severest 
penalties. {Turning to Psyche.) Well, girl, I pity you. 

PsY. ( With head downcast}) And I suppose that is all any 
one can do for me ! 

RoG. ( Walks up stage. Aside.) Is that all I can do for 
her ? {A long pause}) No ; I can do more. {Approaching 
Ivan.) Old man, will you sell this girl ? 

Ivan. Chuckling}) If I get my price. 

RoG. {Leaning forward.) How much ? 

Ivan. {Sitting down by the keg) Ah! Let me think a 
moment. {A long, still pause.) Two hundred pounds. 

RoG. {Shaking his head.) Too much. I cannot afford to 
give that amount. {During these lines Psyche stands in breath- 
less suspense toaiting for the decision.) 

Ivan. Not a shilling less will buy the girl ! 

RoG. {Turning to part.) Then she will have to remain 
where she is. 



l6 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

PsY. [Falling on her knees at Roger's feet^ O buy me^ 
stranger, buy me ! If you leave me now he will kill me. 

RoG. [In the act of returning. Aside.) No, I cannot part 
with her. Purity, though shrouded in external wretchedness, 
plays upon my conscience and will not let me go. [To Ivan.) 
Will you not take a hundred pounds? 

Ivan. No. 

RoG. A hundred and fifty pounds? 

Ivan. No. 

RoG. [Aside.) Must I part with the entire amount given 
me by the Viscount St. Aubrey for this girl ? [A pause. 
Roger again starts toward the door in flat. j. \irning, bows loiu.) 
Well, then. 

PsY. [Rushing toivard Roger, throioing herself at his feet, 
crying.) Ah, sir ! Think well of this moment. Can you not 
endure the sense of becoming a master if I can endure the 
sense of becoming a slave ? 

RoG. [Returns. Advances to Ivan.) I will give you two 
hundred pounds. [A long pause?) 

PsY. [Crying in joy.) O my God, I am free ! I am free ! 
How can I thank you master, for this act. To you I owe my 
life. 

RoG. ( Taking the ttvo hundred pounds just received from his 
pocket.). Here, old man, is two hundred pounds, and with it 
I make the payment for this girl. 

Ivan. ( Taking the money in his hands, at the same time chuck- 
ling to himself.) Money ! money ! Now I will buy me grog. 
I am rich, and as free as the girl you have bought I 

RoG. [Stepping forward.) Don't be too sure. You're yet 
in my power, and I will have you arrested for attempting to 
murder. [Goes up stage, looks out of the door.) There is an 
officer at this moment turning the corner, and I will call him. 
[Calling out the door.) Help ! help ! help ! 

Ivan. [Enraged at Roger, takes a revolver from his person 
a7id points it at him?) Be careful young man what you do. or 
I'll make a clean sweep of you all ! 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 17 

Officer appeat-s in open door. 

RoG. {Pointing to Officer, addressing Ivan.) You are 
foiled ! Officer, arrest that man. He has tried to murder this 
helpless girl. 

Officer. {Taking Iya^ by the shoulder.) Lay down your 
weapons. You are my prisoner. 

PsY. {Struck l}y a sudden thought.) O the locket; I must 
have that before I go ! 

RoG. What locket ? 

PsY. {Going to Roger C.) He has a chain and locket 
belonging to me in that iron chest {pointing to cJiest in R. cor- 
ner) yonder, and he says he's going to pawn it. It is the only 
treasure I have in the world, and I want it before I go. 

Officer. {To Ivan.) Deliver to the girl this locket of 
hers. 

Ivan. {Goes sloivly to the chest, lifts the cover and takes out a 
gold locket and chain.) I think they will find this a pretty poor 
source of identity, for I have removed the plate upon which 
was engraved her history. 

RoG. {Advancing to Ivan to get the locket. Ivan himself 
hands it to Psyche.) Now, are you ready to leave him ? 

PsY. {Taking Roger's hand) Yes, my benefactor, I am 
ready. 

RoG. {To Ivan.) O villainy! {To Psyche.) O inno^ 
cence ! Dwellers 'neath the same roof ; thou art forevei 
parted. {To Ivan.) Thou shalt accompany this officer to, 
the courts of justice. {To Psyche.) Thou shalt accompany 
me to Shirley manor, my aunt's beautiful estate in Northum- 
berland. There thou shalt be kindly cared for, there thou 
shalt become a lady, aye, more than that, thou shalt some day 
become the subject of my masterpiece ! 
Slow Curtain. 



l8 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

ACT II. 

Scene First. A garden. Rustic bench R. C. 'Lady Shirley 

discovered sitting on the bench. Romelda Shirley standing 

by her side tvith message iti hand. 

Lady S. Read the message again, Romelda. Perhaps we 
may guess who this new comer is to be. 

Romelda. {^Reading message.) " London, Nov. i6. Will 
be at the Manor to-night at 6 : 30, with a model who in the 
future will live with us. Your nephew, 

" Roger Buckingham." 

Lady S. Who can it be ? 

Rom. I'm sure, mother, I cannot tell. It may be that 
Roger has come across some relative of ours who will accom- 
pany him to the manor. 

Lady S. But we have no immediate connection in London 
known to Roger, and I'm induced to believe otherwise. 

Rom. [dapping her hands.) Wouldn't it be just grand if 
Roger had engaged some handsome London belle to come and 
po^e in his studio ? 

Lady S. Quite romantic, yes ; however, I think Roger pos- 
sesses too little confidence in his ability to venture thus. 

Rom. But Roger has an ambition to become famous, and 
his paintings of late truly exhibit unusual skill. I am almost 
sure the model to which the message alludes will prove to be a 
beautiful figure for his study. 

Lady S. (Rising.) It is past the hour of his arrival now. 
I confess I am anxious to see him. 

Rom. ( Walkz up stage, looking R.) So am I ; but here 
comes Felix. Perhaps he can aid us in solving the mystery. 

Enter Felix, R. 

Felix. [Taking off his hat rudely, makes several hows.') 
Good evening, ladies. [To Romelda.) Aint that right? 
Rom, Ha, ha, ha! Yes, Felix, quite proper. 



\ 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 19 



Lady S. I am glad you have come out into the garden. 
Sit down awhile. 

Felix. [Excited.) No, I cannot stay. I merely came to 
tell you something. 

Rom. [Anxiously.) Oh yes, yes, yes! Do tell us. {To 
Lady S.) Mother, I knew he could tell us all about cousin 
Roger and his model. [To Felix.) Go on, go on. I know 
just what you're going to say. 

Felix. [Folding his arms and walking away pompously.) 
Then it saves me the trouble of telling it. 

Rom. [Taking him by the coat sleeve^ O no, tell it. I only 
meant I had an idea what it was. Tell us quick ! 

Felix. Are you in a hurry ? 

RoM. Yes, yes. 

Felix. What would you give to know ? 

Rom. [Impatiently.) Oh Felix, don't keep us in suspense. 
Tell us if you really know. 

Felix. [Nearing the ladies.) Well then, listen. [A pause.) 
Are you ready for me to break the news ? 

Lady S. and Rom. Yes ! yes ! 

Felix. [Getting closer.) And wont you say I told you ? 

Rom. No, no ! Go on, go on ! 

Felix. [Getting very near.) Well then, I will tell you that 
[pause) — that — now pay close attention — that — are you pre- 
pared ? 

Lady S. and Rom. Yes, yes ! 

Felix. [Talking in their ears.) Then I will tell you that 
[a pause) now be ready — that I was thinking of a second wife ! 
( Walks away hastily.) 

Rom. [Stanping her foot.) Oh, you horrid gardener. We 
thought you knew about the coming of Roger and his model. 

Felix, And his what? 

Lady S. We received a message from Roger a few hours 
ago stating that he would be at the manor at 6:30 to-night 
with a model. 



20 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

Felix. What's he going to do with it ? 

Rom. Models, Felix, are the study of artists. 

Felix. Will he let 'er loose ? 

Rom. Stupid! Remain, and when they arrive, you will 
see what his model is. 

Felix. {Goi/ig R.) I think I'll be wise in going before 
they come, for if this model you tell about should fall in love 
with my elegant shape, ah, me ! where would the blue-eyed 
widder be ? Aint that right ? {Exit R.) 

Rom. [Gir/is/ily.) Ha! ha! ha! What a queer old gar- 
dener ; and yet I must confess I should feel lonesome not to 
have him about the manor. 

Lady S. Hu^h, Romelda, I hear footsteps approaching 
{liste7is) and voices. ( Voices outside L.) It is Roger coming 
up the path. [Going to the rustic bench.) Come, let us sit upon 
the bench till he comes. (Lady S. sits, Romelda stands look- 
ing L.) 

RoG. [Outside.) Follow me, Psyche ; I know you are tired, 
but I think we will find them upon the terrace, and then, in a 
little while we will be at the castle. 

Enter Roger L., folloivcd by Psyche. 

Yes, here they are. my dear aunt and cousin, awaiting our 
arrival, (Roger embraces both Lady S. and Romelda, who 
act pleased to see him.) 

Lady S. I am glad to see you back once more. 

Rom. And so am I, but why did you not bring the model 
as your message announced ? 

Rog. Why did I not bring the model ? I have. There 
she stands. [Pointing to Psyche, ivho has remained in the back- 
ground trying to hide herself in the shrubbety. ) 

Lady S. Roger, you are jesting now. 

Rom. [To Lady S.) See, mother, she is a filthy urchin — 
a vagabond. 

RoG. Don't talk that way, cousin. The rags that cover 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 21 

purity are more precious in the sight of God than the silks that 
cover sin. 

PsY. [Aside.') I am afraid I shall not like it here. The 
people feel above me because I'm poor. 

RoG. {^Beckoning Lady S. to him.) Auntie, draw near and 
I will tell you how it happened. The picture which I took to 
London for the criticism of the Viscount St. Aubrey, proved 
to be the likeness of his father. (Romelda and Lady S. show 
surprise^ He bought the picture, paying me two hundred 
pounds. I found that girl in the miserable habitation of a 
drunken musician who was about to kill her. I rescued her 
and with that two hundred pounds I delivered her from the 
murderous hands of the player. I have brought her here to 
live, and some day I mean to make her the subject of my mas- 
terpiece. {Calling to Psyche. Romelda and Lady S. i-etire 
to Ji.) Come here. Psyche. [Aside.) Poor girl. She feels 
her position keenly. [To Psyche.) That is my aunt. Lady 
Shirley, and the other is my cousin, Romelda. I may as well 
tell you now that their social position forbids my giving you 
any formal introduction to them. 

Lady S. Roger ! 

RoG. [Looking ?//.) Yes, auntie. 

Lady S. ( With a sneer.) We will return to the castle. 
The waif you may install among the servants. (Exit Lady S. 
and Romelda.) 

RoG. [Aside.) She has been very kind to me since my 
father died, when I was placed under hers and Lord Shirley's 
care, but this act of mine, I fear, has turned her against me, 
but never mind. [Turning to Psyche.) Come, sit by me 
awhile, Psyche ; we will shortly withdraw to the castle. 

Enter Felix unobserved L..^ with basket. 

Felix. [Aside.) Ho ! ho ! ho ! Sir Roger and a woman, 
■and if not a woman it must be a model. [Goes tip behijid 
Roger, slaps him violently on the baek.) 



22 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

RoG. [Ju7nping tip frightened.) Why, Felix ! you gave 
me such a start ! 

Felix. Ever had one before ? 

RoG. {Laughs.) Well, Felix, old soul, are you glad to see 
me back again ? {Takes Felix by the hand.) 

Felix. {Laughing vigorously.) Glad to see you ? Well, I 
guess I be. I am always glad. I was born glad, and Fve been 
glad ever since. Aint that right ? 

RoG. One blessed with so placid a nature has reason to be 
thankful. But where are you going with that large basket ? 

Felix. To the market in the village. 

RoG. On your way thither would you do an errand for me ? 

Felix. {Takes off his cap.) With pleasure. 

RoG. Please call, then, at the Shaugurine cottage and tell 
the servant I would be pleased to have Miss Faustina pose to- 
morrow at 2 in the afternoon, for neck and head. 

Felix, Then you don't want the rest of her ? 

RoG. ( Walking down stage.) You do not understand, 
Felix. Some day I will explain. You may proceed. 

Felix. {Going close to Roger and talking in his ear.) Be- 
fore I go there is something I would like to whisper in your 
ear. {A pause. Fei^ix points silently to Fsyche.) Is that your 
model ? 

RoG. Yes ; some day I hope to be able to transfer the 
divinity of her soul upon canvas. 

Felix. But your aunt and cousin just now told me that you 
bought that girl. 

RoG. And so I did. 

Felix. Then let me tell you you're a fool ! 

RoG. Why ? 

Felix. Because the world is full of women that you could 
have got for nothing. {Going R.) But that is your businese, 
not mine, and I must away to the market. {Scratches his head.) 
Let me see ; I am to say to the servant at the Shaugurine 
cottage that you'd like Miss Faustina's neck and head to- 
morrow in the p. m. Aint that right ? {Exit R.) 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 



23 



RoG. {To Psyche.) A queer being, is he not, Psyche? 

PsY. Who was that ? 

RoG. That was Fehx, the gardener of the manor. 

PsY. And didn't he wonder how I came here ? 

RoG. ( Taking Psyche by the /la/uL) No ; he, as well as my 
aunt and cousin, has already been made acquainted with the 
story of your wretched existence in London, and how I ran- 
somed you ; and the clouds that shadow our pathway now we 
will hope may be lifted and let the sunshine down. 

PsY. [Looking up into Roger's /rt-^r.) O sir ! do you know 
that I have thought as I sat there musing, that there was little 
choice between life and death when the time came, that equal 
flesh and blood were so widely separated by power. I have 
wondered that if when I came to die they would give me a 
lower place in heaven because I had been a beggar on earth. 
Oh, my benefactor ! I do not want to feel that you are still a 
stranger to me, for you're the only friend I have in this great 
world. {Crying.) 

Rog. {Soothing.) Don't take on so. Psyche ; you even 
bring the moisture to my own eyes when you talk of being a 
beggar. You are no longer thus. You are many miles from 
him who made you dance and sing upon the streets of London. 
You are going to live with us up in yonder castle on the hill. 
Look up into my face, and let me see you smile. We may 
hope, even while the clouds are blackest. Thou art not for- 
ever destined to be miserable. Remember, thou shalt some 
day become the subject of my masterpiece. {Scene closed in by 
village street, in 2d grooves.) 

Scene Second. A village street. Enter Felix L. in great 
haste ; his coat tails gofie, his pantaloons torn, his hat in one 
hand, his basket in the other. Barking of dogs outside L. Or- 
chestra playing lively music. 

Felix. {Excitedly.) O dear, O dear ! I wonder who I am ! 
That dog must have took me for another feller. How quickly 



24 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

he dislocated the posterior department of my coat ; and my 
pants [looks down at them), poor pants ! They are rented. 
The rent is high, I guess I'd better move. But it will never 
do to go up to the Shaugurine cottage in this condition. 
They'd say I was an escaped lunatic, and likes enough they'd 
set another dog onto me. That would be monotonous. I 
don't like too much of one thing. ( Takes off kis coat gently, 
and throws it on the ground. Addressing the coat?) You have 
stuck by me for years, but the best of friends must part. You 
was past your usefulness. I was only wearing you for the good 
you had done. Now I must sneak back to the lodge and put 
on another wardrobe. I'll dress myself all up in my holiday 
attire, the one I always wear when I go to see the blue-eyed 
widder in the alley. {^To himself?) Anybody wouldn't think 
I was in love to look at me ! But I am, all the same ; and she 
(grins) lives up in the alley yonder. (Pointing Z.) She's a 
handsome lass of thirty-two summers, and I should think about 
as many winters. (Peco/iecting his situation.) Oh! what if she 
should see me in this condition. Poor thing ; I'm afraid 
'twould break her heart. I haint any hard feelings agin that 
dog. He looked very sorry for what he'd done when I turned 
and invited him with the toe of my boot to let up. Let me 
see ; (scratching his head) what did Sir Roger tell me I must 
say to Miss Faustina at the Shaugurine cottage? He wanted 
her neck and head to-morrow at 2 in the p. m. Poor thing! 
I'm glad I'm not a model. When anybody gets my neck and 
head they've got to take the rest of me. I don't come in sec- 
tions. I'm all here — all but my coat tails. (A woman's voice 
from above speaks, and a note drops to stage as if thrown from a 
window. Voice.) Ah, I see you I Felix (looking up.) Great 
Heavens ! She sees me. O dear I what shall I do ? (Pick- 
ing up the note.) She threw this little billy dux at me. Open- 
ing note.) I wonder what Billy has to say. (Reads note.) 
" Felix, I've been watching you for a long time from my win- 
dow. I see you are drunk. I want to tell you I shall not 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 25 

marry no rum keg for a husband ; so that settles it. You need 
not come to see me any more. Any man that drinks whisky, 
and acts as you do on the pubhc streets can't put both his 
arms around me and call me his sugar-coated jewel." {^Look- 
ing 7/p.) It's a lie. I never put both my arms around her, 
because I've got the rheumatism in my left shoulder. [In de- 
spair.) Oh! my goose is cooked! My bread is butter side' 
down ! The blue-eyed maiden's gone agin her word. She 
thinks I'm drunk. [Startitig L.) I'll go right back to the 
lodge and dress all up nice. Then I'll go and make up with 
her. [Picks up tJie coat and puts it in the basket.) Poor gar- 
ment ! I don't dare put it on. [Holds the basket at arms 
length.) That coat will have^the hydrophobia sure ! I'll 
hurry home before it has an attack come on. [Exit L. in 
haste. ) 

Scene Third. Roger Buckingham's studio in the Shirley 
mansio7i. ^OG'E.Yt. discovered with bri/shes and palette in hand 
standing in front of an easel, upon which rests a partly made 
picture of Psyche. 

RoG. [Looking intently at his work.) The masterpiece 
already begun! Oh, thou Beggar Venus ! Can it be that all 
is a myth ? It seems so much like a dream sometimes, that I 
can scarcely trust in the reality of m.y own thoughts. ( Turn- 
ing around.) -But why does she not come? An hour have I 
waited here alone for her. Poor girl ; I wish I knew if she 
was any happier here, environed with wealth and splendor, 
with all that is grand and gorgeous for her eyes to feast upon, 
than she was in the great city of London, wearing out her 
little self for the sake of a cruel, murdering violinist. I hope 
she is. But the indignities shown her by my aunt and cousin, 
I fear make her long to go back to old Ivan and again be- 
come the beggar on the streets of London ! [Going up stage.) 
Oh ! why don't she come ? I'm getting impatient to see her 
face again. 



26 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

Psyche comes tripping in from open door in flat. 

PsY. Who are you so impatient to see, Roger ? 

RoG. ( Turning to see who it is.) You, my — ( To /n'mse//.) 
No ; I must not say the words. {To Psyche.) Do you know 
you've kept me waiting ? 

PsY. Yes ; but as I came up across the garden the flowers 
looked so pretty, and the birds were singing so sweetly in the 
trees that I could not help stopping to enjoy them a moment. 
Forgive me ; wont you, master ? 

RoG. {With a pained look.) Don't say that word. It sends 
a pain to my heart. I'm not your master. 

PsY. But you bought me. 

RoG. Not to make you a slave. 

P.SY. What then ? 

RoG. To liberate you from the wretchedness and cruelty 
of a bad man ; and to make you the subject of my masterpiece. 
{Pointing to picture, R?) 

PsY, {Turning.) Ah, my first sitting. 

RoG. Yes ; and day by day as we together watch the de- 
velopment of the picture, let us pray for its perfection, and 
pray that through it the gates to the love of my aunt and 
cousin may be opened to us. 

PsY. ( With pride.) It makes me feel like a lady to have 
my picture on canvas. 

RoG. And that is what you will be some day. 

PsY. Do you really think so? 

RoG. Yes. 

PsY. {Going up stage. In despair?) No. I shall always 
be a beggar as long as I live. Perhaps not a beggar on the 
streets of London, but a beggar of other people's favor, other 
people's love ! 

RoG. {Taking hold of her arm.) That is not so, for as 
long as I live there will be one whose love you will not have 
to beg. 

PsY. {Looking up into Roger's face.) You are very kind 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 27 

to rae, Roger, and I fear I shall never live to see the day that 
I can pay you back the debt of gratitude that I owe you. 

RoG. Perhaps you never will, but we'll hope. 

PsY. Hope is a vacant word to me. All my life I have 
hoped, but in vain. The object seems like the place where the 
earth and sky seem to meet, and like that place, when I think 
I've almost reached it, it is always just a little ways beyond, 
{Crying.) 

RoG. {Endeavoring to comfort her.) Poor girl ! Try not 
to think about yourself and your sorrow. Come {placing a 
chair for her), sit awhile. We will turn our thoughts to 
brighter subjects. 

PsY. (Sitting by Roger.) O Roger ! do you know I think 
you're awful good ? 

RoG. I wish I could feel that your opinion was just. 

PsY. Now that we're all alone in your studio, I would like 
to ask you one question. 

Rog. What is it. Psyche ? 

PsY. Were your aunt and cousin always so cold and re- 
served before I came here to live ? 

Rog. {Turning from her. Aside.) Must I tell her ? {To 
Psyche.) Why do you ask such a question? 

PsY. Because in knowing it will at least remove some fan- 
cies and superstitions ; and if I am made more miserable it will 
only be because I know the truth. 

Rog. I do not know how to word a reply. 

PsY. Tell it plainly, Roger, tell it truthfully. Did Lady 
Shirley and Miss Romelda treat you so disrespectfully before 
you brought me to Northumberland ? 

Rog. {Rising, walks L. Aside.) I must not tell her falsely. 
{Comes back to Psyche.) No ; if you must have the truth, 
she was always kind to me before you came. 

PsY. {Rising.) Then I will go. 

Rog. {Putting his hand on her shoulder?) No ; you will 
Stay. 



28 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

PsY. [Reasoni/tg). But it's not right for me to enjoy the 
grandeur and luxury that surround me here at the expense 
of another's sorrow. [A thought strikes her.) But I forgot. 
Your money ransomed me, and it shows my ingratitude when 
I talk of leaving you. Through a sense of duty I will remain, 
though all the while till some loving goddess shall bring about 
a reconciliation, I shall feel as though I was not wanted here. 
Enter Lady Shirley, L. 

Lady S. Roger, are you busy ? 

RoG. No ; would you like to talk with me ? 

Lady S. Yes. 

RoG. (7^(9 Psyche.) There are some blank cards on the 
table, Psyche [poi/iiii/g to small tabic, J?.), take the brushes and 
turn artist awhile. My aunt has something to say to me. 
(Psyche does as she is bid. Roger turns to Lady Shirley.) 
Now, what is it ? 

Lady S. [Indignantly.) I desire your presence only. 
Send the beggar into another room ! 

PsY. {Starting toward H. To herself.) I will go. He 
would not send me. 

RoG. {To Psyche.) You will return in an hour. Then 
you may pose again for the picture. ' 

Exit Psyche, R. 

Lady S. Now, Roger Buckingham, will you answer the 
question which I shall ask you ? 

RoG. I will try. 

Lady S. {Sneeringly.) Tell me then, what prompted you 
to buy that degraded creature and bring her into our house? 

RoG. What prompted me ? 

Lady S. Yes. 

RoG. The resolve not to see innocence stained with its own 
blood. 

Lady S. Oh, you're not so gallant as that. It was some- 
thing besides that. 

RoG. Yes, there was something else. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 29 

Lady S. What ? 

RoG. The longing to make her the subject of my master- 
piece. 

Lady S. Roger, you are doing very wrong to keep that 
girl here. She is a disgraceful castaway, and her Bohemian 
nature asserts itself in ways that are humiliating to people in 
our social rank. Roger, you're a fool to interest yourself in 
this girl ! (A pause.) 

RoG. Perhaps I am. Time alone will verify your words. 

Enter Felix, Z. 

Felix. Pardon me for disturbing your conversation, but 
Sir Roger, there's a woman at the lodge that wants to know 
how much you give a day for the models that pose in your 
studio ? 

RoG. Felix, please inform the lady that I do not hire mod- 
els. I do not consider that my ability is yet recognized by 
the world, hence, all the models that pose in ;/iy studio come 
to me as a student, not a master. 

Felix. Have I got to tell her all that ? 

RoG. No ; simply inform her that her services are not 
required. 

Felix. Yes, Sir Roger. {Exii Z.) 

RoG. {Turning- to Lady S.) Now, have you anything fur- 
ther to say concerning this girl ? 

Enter Romelda R. unobserved. 

Lady S. No, it is useless ; you think you are right, and 
nothing but time will prove to you otherwise. 

Rom. {Advanci7ig.) And that will surely do it ! 

RoG. Then we'll let time have the honor of bringing in 
the verdict. 

Lady S. But must we suffer the disgrace of her presence 
here till years have made you realize your injustice to us ? 

Rom. (Laying her hand upon. Roger's arm, pleadingly.) O 
Roger ! Look at our rank in the world. Only think ; this is. 



30 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

the manor of the late Lord Shirley of Northumberland. How 
could you have possessed the courage to bring such a creature 
into our midst ? 

RoG. It didn't require any courage, cousin. It only took 
a heart susceptible of pity. 

Rom. Can you pity such a girl ? 

RoG. Yes. 

Rom. How can you ? You know not whether she deserves 
it or not. You know nothing of her kith or kin ! 

RoG. And that is why I pity her the more ! 

Lady S. O Roger ! Your arguments are frail. 

RoG. If so it is only because my heart aches too hard for 
reasoning. 

Enter Psyche R., mmoticed. 

Lady S. (7<; Roger.) Your persistence drives me mad. 
If you continue it will not be long before I shall detest you as 
I do the girl. Will nothing convince you that you are bring- 
ing upon yourself and your relations shame and degradation by 
allowing such a creature to breathe the air of Shirley manor ? 

RoG. Nothing, save the girl's own infidelity. 

Lady S. [Resolved.) Then from this moment do not seek 
favor at our hands. Never ask me to be again the friend to 
you that I have been in the past, for you're not my nephew if 
you care for her, the menial, the beggar, the wretch — 

PsY. [Rushing between them mid throwing her ar??is around 
Roger's neck.) Oh, Roger ! Do let me go before I am killed 
with anguish, and you are burdened with disgrace. If I 
were the only one to suffer, I would not mind; but Roger, you 
are too true, too noble, to be made thus miserable by another's 
presence. O let me go ! Let me go ! [Laying her head upon 
his breast, crying.) 

Lady S. [IVith intense anger.) Sir, you are trifling with 
my authority. The girl begs to return to her sinful haunts 
and wandering life. I will no longer entreat you ; I command 
you ! Send that creature [pointing to Psyche) back to 
London ! 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 3I 

RoG. [Enraged.) Hold, woman ! You are mad. When 
you send that girl away from this castle, you send me too 
And I dare you to send me j I dare you to close the doors of 
this house upon me ; I dare you to cheat me in the future as 
you have cheated me in the past ! 

Lady S. ( With a significant glance at Romelda.) What ? 

RoG. [Drawing nearer.) Listen, and I will reveal to you 
for the first time, my knowledge of a transaction which you 
were keeping from me. When my father, upon his dying bed, 
made you the guardian of my minority, he gave over to you 
our entire estate, twenty thousand pounds ; (Lady S. and 
Romelda look very strangely at each other) and there, during 
his last moments, you signed a paper agreeing to care for me 
in the place of my poor dead mother ; and that when I had 
attained the legal age you were to relinquish your hold on the 
property, giving me my portion (ten thousand pounds), and I 
was to shift for myself. I am three years past the specified 
age now, and yet, rather than pay back the money, you play 
the traitor and keep me in ignorance. But I've found you out. 

Lady S. [Surprised and excited.) How? 

RoG. I've seen the paper ! And a few days ago one of the 
witnesses, now in foreign lands, supposing the property had 
descended into my hands, wrote me a letter congratulating me 
on my inheritance. O woman ! the truth has come to light at 
last ; and now I repeat it. Send that girl [pointing to Psyche) 
away, and you send me ; but before / go, I trouble you for 
my rightful portion, ten thousand pounds ! 

Lady S. [Humbly.) But that would ruin us, Roger ! 
(Lady S. sobs. The orchestra in tremolo until act drops?) 

RoG. [Taking his place between Lady S. and Psyche, 7uho 
is L.) Then you are in my power ! There are two things for 
you to choose between : Pay over to me the share to which I 
am entitled according to your agreement, and the girl and I 
will bid adieu to this manor, nevermore to disturb your peace 
by our presence; or cancel your hatred for her this moment, 



32 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

and say she shall remain, not as a servant, but as a member of 
your household, as a recipient of yours and cousin Romelda's 
love ! (Lady S. and Romelda advance slowly and take Psyche 
by the hands. Sioto curtain.) 

End of Act II. 



ACT III. 

Scene First. A forest near Shirley manor. Roger and 

Psyche strolling together through the uwod. 

RoG. (Entering from Z., arm in arm with Psyche.) 
Six months have passed away since I brought you to Shirley 
manor. Can you believe it, Psyche ? 

PsY. Yes ; it almost seems as many years to me. 

RoG. That is because you are unhappy here. Oh, I wish 
I could think of something that would be a joy to you ! 

PsY. There is but one thing. 

RoG. And that is — 

PsY. Your permission that I might leave Northumberland 
and escape the ire of Lady Shirley and your cousin Romelda. 

RoG. Are you sure you would be happy then ? 

PsY. Yes, if — [Acting shyly.) 

RoG. If what ? 

PsY. If you would go too. 

RoG. ( Taking her by the hafid.) Ha ! ha ! ha ! How glad 
I am that you are brave enough to make this acknowledg- 
ment. But I shall never leave Northumberland, for my aunt, 
I am well aware, has exhausted all my inherited property in 
keeping up the Shirley estate ; and now all there remains for 
me to do is to stay and make the best of my circumstances. 
O Psyche ! I have been defrauded of my rights. I have 
been cheated by those supposed to be my benefactors, and all 
about me there seems to be gathering the shades of a horrid 
night, but for all this darkness, all this misery, there is a guid- 
ing star, and in its rays there seems to be something like hope. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. ^^ 

{^Lookiiig into Psyche's /rt<r<?.) O Psyche ! Don't you under- 
stand my meaning ? You are my star. It is you that gives 
me hope. [Dnnas her nearer to him.) 

PsY. But you mistake ; my station in the world is far below 
yours. 

RoG. [Shaking his head.) I scarce believe such could 
ever be. 

PsY. But I am a beggar. 

RoG. No longer thus. You are a lady. 

PsY. Then why am I not as good as your aunt and cousin ? 

RoG. You are. 

PsY. They do not think so. 

RoG. Their opinion does not influence the world. They 
have no right to think ill of you. 

PsY. Since the time when you made known to them your 
knowledge of the property in their possession belonging to you, 
I have fancied they luere a little more friendly toward me, but 
it only makes me feel the worse, for now I know they only treat 
me decent because you have forced them to do so. 

RoG. [Leading Psyche to set stump R. Psyche sits.) 
Poor girl ! Try not to think about your present woe. Think 
rather of the future, which will be brighter. 

PsY. You do not know that, Roger. 

RoG. I trust, and I am trusting now, that the hour will 
sometime come when this great barrier of human rank shall 
have been washed away, and all the members of Shirley house- 
hold shall be brought together to enjoy the blessing of each 
other's love. O Psyche ! For my sake be brave ; for my sake 
pray that this, the winter of our sorrow, may be followed by a 
springtime of love and reconciliation. 

PsY. For your sake, Roger, I will pray. 

RoG. Then you will be happy. 

PsY. Yes ; happy because it pleases you. 

RoG. [Unfolding his sketch book.) Here is my sketch book, 
Psyche. I will select a study for you. 
3 



34 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

PsY. [Laughing.) But I'm not an artist. 

RoG. That may be, but the attempt at making Httle pict- 
ures will afford you amusement which will divert your mind 
from the gloom that hovers about you. [Ha/idiug her the 
pencils.) Here are the pencils. Now see how perfect a pict- 
ure you can make of yonder forest tree. {Fointi?ig R.) 

PsY. [JVith sketch-book on her lap, and pencil in her hand.) 
Now, Roger, while I'm sketching you must not watch me, for 
ft makes me nervous. 

RoG. {Going toward set rock and bank, L.) Then I will sit 
here upon the bank and look the other way. 

PsY. No ; go out into the wood and pluck me some flowers. 
When you return I will have the picture completed. 

RoG. {Going L.) Very well. Remember I shall be anxious 
to behold your first attempt. {Exit.) 

PsY. {Soliloquy.) When he sees it I am sure he will not 
say he is anxious to behold my second attempt. However, I 
will try. {Looking first at the picture and then at the object.) I 
must begin at the roots {sketching), that's the way Roger does. 
{A pause.) Oh ! it's not so easy a matter this sketching of 
large forest trees with tangled branches. I never can do it. 
{Throius sketch-book on the ground.) Roger will have to finish 
it. {Gazes validly about.) Sketching has made me dizzy. 
{Closes her eyes.) O how strange I begin to feel ! {A pause.) 
And — what is that I see up there. {In a vision.) O, the pict 
ure ! That same picture that has seemed to follow me night 
and day ever since I can remember. The large house on the 
hill ; the beautiful garden ! I can see them all before me. 
And there {pointing) — oh, there is the same green mound be- 
neath the spreading boughs of that large tree ! A grave ! Oh, 
death has come ! But there's one other I cannot see! Are they 
dead too? No, not dead {bewildered) — absent, absent — ab- 
sent! O Eden ! Could it have been more beautiful ! Rippling 
waters ! Hear them {listens) gurgle in the sleepy dell. How 
sweetlv the birds are sinfrino- in the bushes! Oh ! what is all 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 



35 



this splendor? Where am I ! [Azi'akens and gazes about?) I 
wonder why Roger does not return. I feel as though I had 
been far, far away to a beautiful land. Old Ivan used to tell 
me it was all a vision, but something within me seems to say 
there is a place somewhere just as lovely as the one I see in 
my dreams. {Rises?) I wish Roger would come. {Calling L.) 
Roger ! Roger ! 

(RoG. Answering from a distance, Z.) Yes ! 

PsY. {Listening.) I hear his voice. He is coming. I 
wonder if he will chide me for not finishing the picture. No, 
Roger never scolds. 

Enter Roger from L. in haste, with a bouquet of real flo7vcrs. 

RoG. {Giving her the bouquet.) Did you think I had for- 
gotten you and had returned to the castle ? 

PsY. No, Roger. The time has not seemed long to me, 
for I've been on a far off journey. 

RoG. A journey ? Where ? Certainly not so very far 
away, or else the transit was made with unusual rapidity. 

PsY. It seemed very far. I cannot tell how far. Every- 
thing looked so lovely there that I would like to take you there 
with me, sometime. 

RoG. {Looking for the sketch book.) I fear you have been 
dreaming, and have not finished the picture. {Starts to pick up 
sketch book from the ground, tchen Psyche gets it from him and 
puts it out of his reach, girlishly.) 

PsY. No, I could not, Roger. It was impossible. You 
would not be angry with me ? 

RoG. Angry with you ? {Putting his arm around her waist.) 
That would be just as impossible. You are too good, too 
kind. 

PsY. {Laying her hand in Roger's.) Are you sure you are 
speaking your own mind ? 

RoG. Rest assured of my sincerity, and I will pray that it 
may be reciprocated by yours. But now that we're once again 



;^6 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

alone, I have a question, which has been in my mind ever 
since I first set my eyes upon you. Will you answer it .' 

PsY. If it lies within my power. 

RoG. What mean those initials about your neck ? 

PsY. {J?eadi/ig the initials.) "J. W." I cannot tell. I 
asked old Ivan the same question once and he told me they 
had no meaning — that they were only for ornament. 

RoG. And I suppose he satisfied your mind that it was so. 

PsY. No ; I believe they have a significance. 

RoG. Yet you cannot tell what it is? 

PsY. No. 

RoG. Strange, indeed. Did you never attempt to trace 
the history of that locket? 

PsY. How could I ? You forget, Roger, I have no one to 
aid me — no kith, no kin ; and sometimes I feel as though there 
was no one whom I might ever call my friend. {^Bmics her 
face in her hands, and begins to cry?) Oh, Roger ! It is hard 
to live in this great world of splendor and happiness with others 
all about me joyous and glad, while I only live in misery and 
woe. It seems as though my tired heart was aching its life 
away. Oh, if I could only die ! Then God would take me 
home and I wouldn't be a beggar any more. O why must I 
live ? Why must I live ? 

RoG. ( With tears in his eyes, taking her by the hand.) Live, 
because there is something better for you to live for. Your 
words have inspired me with a courage to tell you that I love 
you. 

PsY. {Smiles, while yet crying.) Then life, indeed, has an 
object for me. [Puts her arms about Roger's neck.) 

Scene closed in by street. 

Scene Second. A street in Northumberland. 

Enter Baron Wilanski/;-<^w R. with cane in his hand. 

Baron. [Looks in all directions.) Another village have I 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 37 

reached at last — a pretty little town. i^To /li/nself.) 1 wonder 
if the kind of life I'm living will ever end. Week after week, 
month after month, year after year; and still I'm no nearer 
the end of my journey. And the discouraging prospects on 
every hand only cause me to believe that death alone will ter- 
minate my wanderings. Like the winds that regulate the 
arrow upon yon church spire {^pointing) I am shifted hither, 
thither. I wander ; and my wandering seems to bring me no 
nearer its object. {Looks around hi in.) I don't remember of 
ever being in this village before. It looks as though there might 
be wealth and enterprise here. But what is wealth ? O it's 
but a burden — a torture, if it will not bring the desire of your 
heart ! O how much sweeter is poverty linked with happiness, 
than riches, when dimmed with woe. I have wealth ; but it has 
no value to me when I compare it to her for whom I seek. 
How willingly would I give every shilling I own if I could be 
privileged to behold her face again ! Oh, Jaqueline ! My 
child ! [Stares vacantly.) Eighteen years ago she was stolen 
from me. Long years to me ! [Cries. Mind wanders.) Why 
I came to Northumberland I cannot tell. There's no one here 
I know, but then I've got used to strangers. Oh ! when I 
think of my beautiful home in Bohemia and all the luxury 
there, I almost decide to return and give up this vain hope of 
ever finding her who is lost ; but then her mother's dying- 
words will ring in my ears. " Go," she said, " and search for 
Jaqueline. She will be a joy to you in your declining years." 
[Hands clasped toward heaven.) O God ! Direct my course. 
Send down some gentle spirit that will lead me in the right 
path. O, Jaqueline ! O, Jaqueline ! 

Enter Felix Z., unobserved. 

Felix. [Aside.) Oh ! oh ! I wonder who he is. Looks as 
though he might be lost. [Approaching.) How are you my 
lord ? ( Takes off his hat and l>ows.) 

Baron. Good-evening, sir. 



38 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

Felix. (Aside.) He's a good-looking old feller. I believe 
he'd make a good father-in-law. 

Baron. Stranger, could I ask a favor of you ? 

Felix. To be sure. 

Baron. Will you kindly inform me where I can find a quiet 
inn ? 

Felix. Yes, my lord. {Beckons Baron to him.') Come 
here. (Baron goes to Felix who turns him about, 7i'hen he 
points 7c>ith his right hand over Baron's shoulder.) 

Felix. Do you see that large brown-colored building 
standing on the left hand side of the street, way down beyond 
where that feller's hitching that horse to that lamp post? 

Baron. Yes. 

Felix. My girl lives there. 

Baron. But kind sir, you would confer upon me a greater 
favor by directing me to a place where I could get some sup- 
per, and where I could retire for the night. 

Felix. Well, you wait. I was jest coming to it. [Stations 
Baron as be/ore.) You turn the first corner beyond that place 
where you see a big medicine sign, and go up that road till 
you come to an old church with ivy growing all over it. Then 
you turn down a lane that's there, and if you don't come to a 
quiet inn, it's because the feller that keeps it has closed for the 
season. 

Baron. [Puzzled.) My friend, I fear you will have to 
accompany me thither if I find the place. 

Felix. Were you never there ? 

Baron. No ; nor was I ever in this place before. 

Felix. [Standing back.) Oh, oh I a traveler, hey ? 

Baron. Yes. 

Felix. Where do you come from ? 

Baron. I hardly know. My home is in Bohemia. 

Felix. In Bohemia ? Then you must be a Bohemian. 

Baron. I am proud to own that nationaht)\ 

Felix. [Aside.) And Fm proud myself. You wouldn't 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 39 

believe it. i^To Baron.) Well, my lord, I will accompany 
you to the inn, but I shall take you by another road. By the 
way, did you ever hear of Shirley Castle ? 

Baron. {Reflecting.) Shirley Castle ? Why — yes — it seems 
as though I have read of it. O yes ! {Rei/ieinbering.) It is 
there where the vast collection of relics and ancient armor is 
kept, is it not ? 

Felix. Yes. 

Baron. I have always had a longing to visit that armory. 

Felix. I belong there. 

Baron. You ? 

Felix. Yes. 

Baron. In what capacity, may I ask ? 

Felix. I'm the gardener ; and if you are really so anxious 
to pay a visit to this historic place, I don't know but what I'd 
give myself the authority to show you through, seeing you're a 
stranger in these parts, and might never have the opportunity 
to visit the castle again. But before we go let me inquire of 
you your name. 

Baron. My name is Wilanski. I am a Baron in Bohemia. 

Felix. [Afotioning L.) All is well, my lord. Baron AVilan- 
ski, follow me. {Exeunt Baron and Felix, L.) 

Scene shifted, disclosing Roger's studio. 

Scene Third. Studio of Roger Buckingham /// Shirley 
Castle. The completed portrait of Psyche on an easel in the 
rear. Discovered., Lady Shirley and Roger /// conversation. 

Lady S. [Dignified.) Perhaps you may be able to guess 
why I have sent for you to come hither. 

Rog. No, I must confess that I am ignorant of your inten- 
tion. 

Lady S. Then I will tell you. It is that I may have the 
opportunity of once again reasoning with you ; and if possible, 
to convince you of the debasing influence you are exerting 
upon our honored name by your persistent infatuation for that 



40 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

girl you call "Psyche." Will nothing prove to you that you 
are wrong in having so kind a regard for one so far beneath 
you ? 

RoG. Not until the girl's own acts belie her fidelity. 

Ladv S. {Becoming excited.) Her fidelity ? Do you dare 
talk of fidelity ? 

RoG. I am not ashamed of it if I do ! 

Lady S. Roger Buckingham, you do not mean to say that 
you love that girl ? 

RoG. I suppose j'ou may as well know the truth first as 
last. Yes, with all my soul I love that girl ! 

Lady S. It is foolish for you to love that poor Bohemian 
girl ; for never, never, never will you be permitted to make 
her your wife ! 

RoG. [Going to her in a rage.) Who will hinder me ? 

Lady S. I will hinder you. You have drops of the Shirley 
blood in your veins, and rather than see one of our family 
wedded to a girl without distinction, without even womanhood 
(Roger becoming angry), I would see him in the tomb ! Roger 
Buckingham, as long as I live to tell it, you shall never become 
the husband of that lowly creature ! 

RoG. I would like to ask you what control you have over 
me. I am twenty-three ! 

Lady S. I care not for your age. Until you are old enough 
to reason for yourself, somebody will have to reason for you ; 
and there is no one left save me to interest themselves in your 
welfare ! 

Rog. ( Wildly.) I think there is one other. 

Lady S. And now you show your weakness again. Roger, 
do you think I am jesting when I talk to you upon this subject ? 

Rog. No ; but instead, I think you do us both an injustice 
by treating us as you do. 

Lady S. Ha ! ha! Then you think I ought to pet you and 
humor you as though you were children of royal parentage ? 

Rog. No. I only ask you to treat us as one human being 
should treat another. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 4I 

Lady S. And I suppose you think these words of yours 
will melt my heart, and I will permit you to marry the girl. 

RoG. [Stepping forward, with a wave of the ha?id.) Your 
permission is not necessary. 

Lady S. Do you have the courage to tell me that you ivill 
marry this beggar against my wishes, against my commands ? 

RoG. I have the courage to tell you that in this transaction 
there are but two parties concerned — the girl and I ! 

Lady S. [Retreating.') Then, if you will be so thought- 
less, go ahead. But see how soon the day will come when you 
will regret your obstinacy ! 

Enter Felix, L. 

Felix. Sir Roger, there's a stranger waiting in the corridor 
who would like to gain admittance to the studio. 
RoG. A stranger, hey? Man or woman ? 
Felix. Man. 
RoG. Well, escort him hither. 

Exit Felix. 

Lady S. [Going R.) I will retire to the drawing-room, as 
doubtless this gentleman wishes to interview you on topics 
pertaining to your profession. But once for all let me tell you, 
you shall not marry the Bohemian girl ! [Exit R.) 

RoG. [After a long pause?) Oh, cruel fate ! That I should 
be obliged to live here. She thinks I'm in her power. Poor 
woman! She may be convinced otherwise sometime. [Begins 
to arrange the fitrtiiture in the studio.) But I wonder who it 
can be that seeks an entrance to these apartments. Perhaps 
some one in quest of a painting to adorn his walls. [Voices 
outside.) Ah, they come. 

Enter Felix L., followed iy Baron Wilanski. 

Felix. [Pointing to Roger.) That is the artist, my lord. 
[Exit.) 

Baron. Good-evening, sir. 



42 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

RoG. Good-evening. 

Baron. To relieve you of the query why I should come to 
this castle, I will explain. I am a stranger in Northumberland, 
and having read of the ancient armor kept in these halls, I 
was anxious to behold it ; and by chance I fell into .the com- 
pany of your old servant and gardener, who kindly consented 
to show me about this historic place. {His gaze first rests upon 
the picture of Psyche.) 

RoG. You are at liberty to behold the relics, and also to 
view my works of art. {Pointing to the portrait of Psyche.) 

Baron. {Starting hack, looks ^vild and beivildered.) Did you 
pamt that picture ? 

RoG. {Surprised at 'Q\RO^''~> actions.) Yes. 

Baron. {Aside.) How much as~ her mother used to look. 
O great God ! Can it be possible that I'm on the right track 
at last ? {To Roger.) From what copy did you paint that 
portrait ? 

RoG. From the original itself. 

Baron. {Starts bac/c.) From the original ? 

RoG. Yes. 

Baron. {Aside.) Then he has seen the original — seen her! 
Can it be ? Oh, this must be a dream ! Am I really in the 
presence of one who has painted her face upon canvas ? 
{Doubtfully.) But then, it may not be she. {To Roger.) 
Where did )'0u paint that picture ? 

RoG. In this very room. 

Baron. In this room ? 

RoG. Yes. 

Baron. {Aside.) I almost fear it is not the one. {Looks 
at the portrait.) But then, those eyes ! That brow ! Those 
lips so like the ones now hushed in death. O can there be another 
with her features ? {Shakes his head doubtingly.) There may 
be. How shall I ever know ? 

RoG. {Going to Baron, laying his hand on Baron's shoul- 
der.) JNIy friend, you seem interested in this picture. It is my 
masterpiece. 



THE BEGGAR VENUS 43 

Baron. And the subject was — 

RoG. [Intcrn/p/ing.) A girl just as beautiful as she. 
{Pointing to the portrait^ 

Baron. Forgive me, sir, if I ask you where she is ? 

RoG. She is in this castle. 

Baron. In tliis castle, do you say ? 

RoG. {^Becoming more alarmed at Baron's actions) Yes. 

Baron. [Entreatingiy.) Then may I be permitted to see 
her ? 

RoG. {Aside.) I cannot understand why this man, stranger 
as he is, should be so anxious to see Psyche. But I apprehend 
no evil in his seeing her. {To Baron.) Sit down and wait. 
I will call her. {Starts to go P., when Psyche is heard singing 
to herself outside. Orchestra in soft strains.) Hark ! I hear 
her singing. {Looks off R.) She is coming. 

Enter Psyche fro7n R. quickly., and throws herself into Rog- 
er's arms., before she discovers Baron. 

Baron. {Loiu to himself^ zvhile Psyche is talking to Roger.) 
Oh, Jaqueline, my child ! No, it cannot be she 1 

PsY. ( With arms around Roger's 7ieck.) O Roger, dear ! 
Have you been lonesome without me ? (Baron's previous ex- 
clamation causes her to notice him, when, she springs back fright- 
ened.) 

Rog. This old gentleman, Psyche, has been admiring the 
masterpiece, and his interest in it for some reason, has devel- 
oped into a desire to see the subject. I was about to call you 
when I heard you coming. 

Psv. {To Baron, bonnng loiu.) Indeed. {To Roger.) 
Who is he ? 

Rog. I do not know. He is a stranger in England. 

Baron. {To himself .) O how like the one that now lies 
cold and silent in Bohemia ! The very face of her I once 
called wife. {Placing his hand over his heart, looking toward 
heaven.) O God ! is this my child ? Answer me while I yet 
live to tell her who I am. 



44 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

PsY. (J"^ Roger.) Poor old man. I believe he has had 
grief in Jiis life. 

RoG. And by reason of your own I suppose you have sym- 
pathy for any that are afflicted, though they may be strangers ? 

PsY. [Notfcfing.) Yes, Roger dear, and he looks so sad 
and careworn that I cannot help but feel sorry for him. 
(Baron sits in easy chair R., crying.') 

RoG. But you know not whether he is deserving of your 
pity or not. Perhaps his own sins have bowed him down. 

PsY. No ; I cannot think thus of him. {^Discovers Baron's 
grief.) See ! he weeps I O Roger, may I not inquire if there 
is not something I can do for him ? 

RoG. You know, dearest, I would not prevent any act of 
kindness j'^// could perform. 

PsY. {Going tip to Baron, puts licr hand upon his shoulder.) 
Are you sick, sir ? 

Baron. {Sfili looking down.) Only sick of living — that's all. 

PsY. You should not feel that way. Cheer up, do, and 
tell us why you mourn. 

(Baron looks up, his eyes meeting those of Psyche. He rises 
suddenly and putting his hand to his head, 7valks a^uay. ) 

Baron. [Aside.) O, it must be true ! The very eyes, and 
just as bright as hers ! [Sees the locket about Psyche's neck?) 
And — and — great GocV ! The locket I O, my God ! {Be- 
comes frantic.) My God ! 

RoG. {Quickly leading Psyche to extreme Z.) Come away. 
Psyche ; the man is crazy. 

Enter Romelda Z., unobserved. She hides behind a large 
screen in corner, L. 

Baron. {Aside.) What is that they call her? Psyche — 
Psyche? O then, 'tis not she! Her name was )iot Psyche. 
O I thought I had found her ! {Shaking his head.) But no ; 
her name was Jaqueline. It is not she. {Looks again at 
Psyche.) But the locket — so like the one she wore when she 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 45 

was taken from us. This torture of mind is killing- me. My 
soul fairly aches and throbs and burns with grief. [Ach>anccs 
toward V.OGE'R. rt;;/*^/ Psyche.) I cannot endure this any longer. 
O girl, I will trouble you to look at that locket about your 
neck ! 

PsY. ( To Roger.) Why does he ask this ? 

RoG. I am sure I cannot tell. If he is really insane it 
would be best to humor his request by letting him see the 
locket. (Psyche takes tlic locket from her neck and gives it to 
Baron to examine.) 

Baron. {^Looking very carefully at the locket. Aside.) They 
called me crazy ; but if I am, reason enough remains to recog- 
nize this piece of jewelry. [Examines the locket still closer. 
To Roger and Psyche.) Where is the rest of this ? 

PsY. I have always supposed it was complete as it is. 

Baron. {Having discovered the plate missing.) But it is not 
so. There is a portion of it gone. 

RoG. [Looks at Psyche.) How does he know? {To 
Baron.) Why sir, you must be possessed of supernatural 
knowledge to know so much about people and things you 
never saw before. 

Baron. [Confidently.) I have seen that locket before. 
(Roger and Psyche exhibit surprise., and spring back speechless.) 
And there is an important plate belonging to it missing. 
[Aside.) O God, tell me how I can break the news ! [A 
pause.) Woman, would you call me crazy if I should — tell 
you [voice falters) who — I — am ? [Begins to cry.) 

Rog. Don't be afraid of him, Psyche. He shall not 
harm you. 

Baron. [Repeating softly to himself.) Psyche ! I wonder 
why he calls her that ? [Rises and goes suddenly to them.) O 
friend, listen to me ! I — am— 

Enter Felix in great haste, L. 
Felix. [Excited.) Attention, Sir Roger, while I speak ! A 
man lies dying at the lodge ! He says he cannot quit this life 



46 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

without seeing you and a girl called " Psyche." I have come 
in haste to summon you thither ; and now I must go for a 
priest to pardon his sins. [Exit L.) 

RoG. {To Psyche.) We must make haste, Psyche, to the 
lodge. This is a strange mission we're about to set out upon ; 
but come, we'll away. {Crossing to L. Baron keeps his eyes on 
Roger and Psyche.) 

PsY. {At tJie zving.) O the locket, he has it ! [Advancing 
to Baron, holding out her hand.) Old man, will you return the 
locket ? 

Baron. {Giving her the locket.) Yes ; I would not keep it, 
for the sight of it only makes me wretched. {Grasps Psyche 
by the hand.) O girl, look at me ! I am not crazy. I am bur- 
dened with grief. {Aside.) Oh, if I could only prove it to 
her! 

PsY. {Endeavoring to release herself.) Sir, please let me 
go. {To Roger.) Roger, see ; he will not let me go. 

Rog. {Coming down C.) Release that girl, man. Such 
conduct is out of place. {To Psyche, after Baron has let her 
go.) Come, we'll away. (Baron follows them to the wing 
where he stands wistfully gazing toward the direction in which 
they departed.) 

Baron. Gone? And she knows not who I am ? Oh, will 
I never see her again ? {Resolved.) Yes, I must, I must ! I 
will follow her. {Exit L. After Baron exits, Romelda looks 
from behind the screen and then comes upon the stage, C. ) 

Rom. {Looking arotmd her as if in fear of being watched.) 
Are they all gone ? I wonder what is going to happen. There 
is a storm gathering, I fear. I must hasten to tell my mother 
what I have listened to, and we too will pursue them to the 
lodge. {Exit R.) 

Scene closed in by street, the same as Scene Second. 

Scene Fourth. A village street. 

Felix. {Enteritig from L., talking to himself.) O I wish I 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 47 

was a married man ! They say married men liave more trouble 
than bachelors, which I can't believe. Well, I'm a widow — er, 
and catch all the trouble for both. Sometimes I don't know 
whether I'm myself pr a man down in London. I wonder how 
the feller's a making it that's a dying at the lodge ? Poor fel- 
ler ! That was a hard blow he got. Just to think that I 
should live to see a man murdered right on the manor. O, I 
wish I was a married man. Any man that don't get married 
in this world aint a man — he's a fool! Aint that right? 
[Looks ckncn the street.) Jehu ! There's a man a coming now 
that looks as though he might be after somebody ! Oh ! what 
shall I do ? I didn't murder the old man — I only took him 
into the lodge. Oh, they'll kill me, I know they will ! {Looks 
again in the same direction.) That feller's turned the corner. 
I'm safe for a little while, any how. But how can I ever prove 
that I didn't murder the old man ? May be I can get the right 
side of the jury and they'll let me off for a couple of hundred 
pounds. If they should arrest me and try me I would rise up 
before the jury and say: ( Takes off his hat in. the aet of rehears- 
ing luhat he would say.) Gentlemen of the jury: I didn't kill 
that feller. I heard a big racket out by the gate — should think 
about 14)^ minutes past ten on the third Wednesday in Sep- 
tember. Went out to see what was going on, and found the 
old feller about dead. I picked him up. He was lying, I 
should think, about two rods, four feet, three inches and three- 
fourths from the northwest corner of the east gate post. I 
carried him into the lodge. He called for some people at the 
castle, and a priest to hold the torch till he got through purga- 
tory. I done as he told me, and I'm not ashamed of it. Now 
have mercy on me, for I'm a poor old man without money, 
without friends and with only one shirt to my back. (Puts on 
his hat and bows ^ I mistrust they'll let me go if they hear my 
speech. I'm great on a speech. I wonder they've not had me in 
parliament ere this. I'd speak a whole hour for my life. So if 
they should really catch me {struck by a sudden though}), but by 



48 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

golly they don't catch me ! I'll flee. (Goi//g J?.) But the blue- 
eyed widder, poor thing ! What'll she say when the silent 
gloaming comes (affcctcd\ and there's no one by her side to 
call her his rosebud, his sunshine, his expectation. Aint that 
right ? [Puts his hands in his pocJict?) I wonder if I've got a 
piece of paper in my pocket? [Finds a very small piece.) 
Golly, there's a piece. Now I must write a few farewell lines 
to my darling. Aint that right ? Let me see if I've got a 
pencil. {Fifids a very small piece in one of his pockets.) O yes. 
Now to say a few parting words of — of — of love. I guess 
that's what they call it. (Puts the paper on his knee and begins 
to write. Writing.) " I am going away." (^Spells the 7Liords 
out, and nearly every one tarotig.) " They think I murdered a 
man at the lodge. I didn't, but I'm going to leave. Meet me 
Tuesday night in Windom after the moon goes down. You 
will find me in an old barn on the left hand side of the road 
about a mile and a quarter north of the village. I'll be watch- 
ing for you. Good-bye. In haste, your devoted 

" Felix." 

Now I must fold this all up in the fashion. [Folding.) 
Now, I'll go around to the back of the house and whistle three 
times like this: ( Whistles three times) She knows what that 
means. Then I'll throw the note on the back stairs and I'll 
away. [Going P.) Good-bye, fair maiden ; good-bye, Shirley 
manor ; good-bye, Northumberland ! [Exit Felix, /// haste.) 

Scene shifts, disclosing a room at the lodge. 
Scene Fifth. A room at the lodge. O'LVilvh.^, the violinist, 

discovered dying on a cot in C. L. A Priest by him. 

Ivan. ( Turning feebly on his cot.) Wont they come pretty 
soon ? [Gasps.) 

Enter Roger and Psyche at door in fat. 

Priest. They are here. 

RoG. [To Psyche, zidio has staid in the rear.) Come with 
me, Psyche, dear. There is nothing here to harm you.. ( Takes 
her by the hand and leads her to Ivan's cot.) 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 49 

PsY. [Rccog77izing Ivan.) O Roger ! It is Ivan. Don't 
you know — the old violinist ? 

RoG. Can it be true that it is the same ? 

PsY. [Pointing to Ivan, who has turned his face toward 
them.) Yes, see ! He recognizes us ! 

Ivan. ( Very feebly.') O you have come at last ! I thought 
maybe you wouldn't get the message till it was too late 
{^gasps), and I could not bear the thought of dying without 
seeing you. Don't you know who I am? (Roger bows Jiis 
head. ) 

PsY. Yes ; you are Ivan— the one who made me dance on 
the streets of London. 

Ivan. {Growing weaker.) Yes, and it is of this I wish to 
speak to you. Draw nearer for my voice is weak, and I've 
something to tell you before I die. (Roger and Psyche ad- 
vance nearer to Ivan's bedside.) Hand me a drink of water. 
My throat seems so parched I can hardly speak. (Roger ^t'd'j 
to a small table R., upon which is a pitcher and water. Gives 
Ivan a glass of 7uater.) 

Enter Lady Shirley and Romelda, R. 

RoG. [Aside.) My aunt and cousin. (7'(?LadyS.) What 
prompted you to follow us to the lodge, I would like to know? 

Lady S. [Importantly.) That is our business. 

RoG. If you have no regard for the feelings of your kin, 
have mercy on him who lies dying on that cot. [Pointing.) 
He has something to tell us — Psyche and me. Please retire, 
that he may tell us before his power of speech is forever gone. 

Lady S. [Persistently.) No ; we will remain ! (Ivan 
gasps short. Puts his hand out to Psyche.) 

PsY. [To Roger.) Come quick, Roger ! He is breathing 
very fast. I fear he is dying ; and — and see, he tries to speak. 

Ivan. [Faintly.) Water. (Roger gives him water as 
before^ 

Ivan. Listen now. (Baron Wilanski rt'//<fV7;-j' /////;<;' /flT/Zy 
open door in flat., unobserved^ I've but a little while to stay. 
4 



50 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

[Speaks as if in great agony.) Child, I have deceived you. 
I'm not your father. I stole you when you were a small girl 
from your home in Bohemia. I have treated you with cruelty. 
Forgive me, now that I'm dying. I've kept this crime a secret 
all these years, but a few months ago, thinking the danger of 
being caught was over, I made another a confidant of it all. 
He became my enemy and swore he would reveal the truth. 
I met him here to-day and was going to put him out of the 
way, but in the struggle he gave me a blow here [putting Jiis 
hand on his l)rcast), and it has killed me. I knew he would tell 
the story of my crime if he was ever caught, and I could not 
bear to die with a conscience so burdened with sin. [Faintly.) 
Water! (Roger gives ivater as before.) O wont you forgive 
me, child ? (Roger and Psyche both eryi>ig.) 

PsY. Yes. 

Ivan. I shall not be here long, and death don't seem so 
terrible to me now that I've freed my mind from this horrid 
sense of guilt. [A long pause. Roger a/id Psyche turn to 
go.) Don't leave me. There's something else I must tell. 
[Gasps. Roger and Psyche return.) Do you remember the 
locket ? 

PsY. [Pointing to the locket about her neck.) Yes • I have 
it on. 

Ivan. [Feebly.) Well, it's not all there. (Roger and 
Psyche look at each other surprised.) 

RoG. [To Psyche.) That is what the old man said at the 
castle. 

Ivan. I removed the principal part of it for fear they would 
find you. I have it here [putting his hand doivn on his breast, 
takes out the plate); but you must have it now, for it is yours. 
[Gasps.) Oh! I'm going, child ! [Eyes stare wildly?) Forgive 
me, forgive me ! I shall soon be over the river. Ah, yes ! I 
hear the waters surging on the beach. They seem to be clos- 
ing in around me, and I shall soon be drifted out into eternity ! 
[Gasps.) O child ! take this plate. It will tell you — who — 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 51 

your — parents — are. {Gasps, eyes close. The Priest bends over 
the form ^/ Ivan and covers him up tvith a sheet. Psyche takes 
the plate.) 

Priest. Life is past. 

PsY. [Holding the plate in her hand.) Dead ! dead ! Those 
last words — what do they mean to me? Who my parents are ? 

God ! Am I in a trance ? Is this truth that the dying man 
has said? O Roger! {Giving him the plate.) Read, read. 
My eyes smart so with tears I cannot see. 

{Orchestra. Baron Wilanski rushes in from door in flat 
where he has overheard the scene. ) 

Baron. {Putting out his hand.) Hold one moment before 
you read ! Look closely at the reading on that plate, and I 
will tell you word for word the entire inscription ! (Roger 
and Psyche greatly surprised. Psyche looks over Roger's 
shoulder and listens.) 

Baron. The reading on that plate is this: " Jaqueline, 
daughter of Baron and Baroness Wilanski, born June 22, 1758, 
at Wilanski Barony, in Bohemia." (Psyche and Roger spring 
forward?) 

PsY. {Excited.) O sir ! How do jw/ know so much about 
this locket ? 

Baron. {Beginning to cry.) How do I know? Child, it 
was these hands that first placed that locket about your neck. 

1 am Baron Wilanski ! I am — your father ! 

PsY. {Afore excited.) O God ! Am I wild ? No, no ! It 
is true ! It is true ! {Rushing into Baron's arms, falls on his 
breast.) O my father, my father ! 

Baron. {Weeping.) O Jaqueline, my child ! I have found 
you. 

PsY. Then you have been searching for me ? 

Baron. Year after year have I searched, but in vain ; and 
I had given you up for dead. 

PsY. Then my dream icas true — the large house on the 
hill— 



52 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

Baron. That was your home — the Barony. 

PsY. The river — 

Baron. That is there just the same. 

PsY. The mound beneath the large tree — 

Baron. [His voice falte?-s.) Alas, Jaqueline, that is your 
dear mother's grave ! 

PsY. My mother dead ? 

Baron. Yes ; it broke her heart when you were taken from 
us, and month by month we watched her fade away till at last 
she died. And she now lies sleeping, as she desired, beneath 
the spreading boughs of a huge tree in the garden. 

PsY. And the old gentleman whom I seemed to feel was 
absent, was— 

Baron. Was I, my child ; and I thank the God of Heaven 
that I have lived to behold your face and tell you who 1 am. 
Jaqueline, you are heir to a vast fortune in Bohemia. You 
were our only child, and there's no one to inherit our valuable 
estate save you. I will take you back to Bohemia, and there 
you may enjoy the scenes of your infancy, with all about you 
that can render your life peaceful and happy. 

PsY. O father ! they told me there would be some sun- 
light for me, and now to reward me for all the sorrow, all the 
wretchedness I have endured, it has come. Father, this happy 
hour would never have been, had it not been for Roger. 
[Pointing to Roger.) To him I owe my life. One cold, stormy 
night in London, I would have died in my own blood, shed by 
the hands of him who now himself lies dead upon that cot 
[pointing); but Roger, good, noble Roger, snatched the up- 
lifted knife from his hand and saved my life. And not only 
this ; he parted with his last shilling and ransomed me, that I 
might not be made to suffer the pangs of woe and the misery 
of a beggar, but that I might live at Shirley manor and enjoy 
the same luxury as he. 

Baron. [Going to 'R.og'E.^, takes him by the hand.) O sir, 
name what you will as a recompense for this heroic and manly 



THE BEGGAR VENUS. 53 

deed, and it shall be granted you. Although the child is mine 
by reason of her birth, she is yours first by reason of this 
noble act. 

RoG. (G'(?///i,'' /'6' Psyche.) O the barrier is removed. Come 
here, Psyche. 

Baron. Why do you call her thus ? Her name is Jaqueline. 

RoG. Jaqueline? Then those initials //<7^/ a meaning, and 
now we know what it is. " J. W." — "Jaqueline Wilanski." 
i^To Psyche.) O Jaqueline ! Is it true we are not to be sep- 
arated, as I feared we would, when he talked of taking you 
back to Bohemia ? 

PsY. No, Roger dear, you will go too. Father and you 
and I, will go home together — home to Bohemia ! O Roger ! 
wont it be grand — grand ? 

(Lady Shirley d-z/f^/RoMELDA, who have been silently engaged 
in watrhing the scene from /?., advance.') 

Lady S. i^To Psyche.) Then you are an heiress. [Bows 
to her.) Oh, forgive me for all the insults and injuries I have 
done you. I little thought you were the daughter of a Baron. 

Rom. And pardon me for all the scorn I have shown you. 
It was only because I thought you were a beggar, and below 
me. 

PsY. [Stepping before them proiid/y.) And now tha^. I 
am an heiress and above you both, you seek to court my favor. 
I will not treat you as you have treated me. I was poor and 
friendless, and you flung me away from you as though I 
were a poisonous serpent. Now I am rich ; but I would not 
act thus with you. If the day ever comes when you need help, 
come to me, / will help you. 

Lady S. [Pleadingly to Roger.) O Roger ! Will you not 
remain with us ? You and Jaqueline and her father ? 

RoM. Yes, cousin Roger, do stay. 

RoG. [Enraged.) O you will only drive me mad with your 
entreaties. I shall ;/(?/stay. I shall accompany the Baron Wilan- 
ski and his daughter to their home in Bohemia. Your aim to 



54 THE BEGGAR VENUS. 

keep me from making this girl my wife, has been foiled. {^To 
Psyche.) You are mine at last. 

PsY. [Laying her hand upon Roger's shoulder.) O Roger, 
how blue the sky looks, now that the clouds are broken. 

RoG. I know you are happy, dearest. The thought of your 
beautiful home in Bohemia can only make you thus. Now, 
Jaqueline, will you sing the " Rakes of Mallow " at our wed- 
ding breakfast ? 

PsY. Yes, Roger dear ; though the music may bring back 
to my mind thoughts of the wretchedness in which I once sang 
it upon the streets of London, the joy of that occasion, I knmv, 
will be enough to overpower all such sorrow, and I shall feel 
like singing it all the day long ; for had you never heard me sing 
it on that cold, stormy night in London, we never would have 
enjoyed this day together. O Roger ! I have been in duty 
bound to you, long before this burning love welded our hopes, 
our joys, our lives together ! {Swgs.) 

Baron. Now, my children, we'll back to Bohemia. {Starts 
toward door, C. ) 

RoG. ( JFi'th his left arm around Psyche's ivaist, his right 
extended toward heaven.) Thank God that I have lived to hear 
those words — that I have lived to see two kindred hearts cease 
aching for each other — that I have lived to claim the subject 
of my masterpiece. {Slow curtain.) 

Roger, Psyche, 
R. Lady S., Rom. Baron. L. 



NOTHING BEHER 



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CONTENTS OF NO. 1 



Keep the Mill A-going. 

Faces in the Fire. 

In School Days. 

The Two Roads. 

Extreme Unction. 

Baron Grimalkin's Death. 

Words and Their Uses. 

Fritz's Troubles. 

Two Christmas Eves. 

An Interview Between the School 

Directors and the Janitor. 
To the Memory of the late Brigham 

Young. 
Eow Liab and I Parted. 
Old Grimes' Hen. 
The Average Modern Traveler. 
At My Mother's Grave. 
The Newsboy's Debt. 
Mrs. Potts' Dissipnted Husband. 
I See the Point. " 
The Professor in Shafts. 
Mr. Sprechelheimer's Mistake. 
God's Time. 
The Little Folks. 
The Old Schoolmaster. 
The Revolutionary Rising. 
Pat's Letter. 
How to Go to Sleep. 
Nothing. 

De Pen and De Swoard. 
A Greyport Legend— 1797. 
The Life-Boat is a gallant Bark. 
Birthday Gifts. 
The Superfluous Man. 
Sockery Setting a Hen. 



The Water that Has Passed. 

Medley— Mary's Little Lamb. 

The Launch of the Shup. 

Aunt Kindly. 

Evening at the Farm. 

Battle of Bcal An' Duine. 

Passing Away. 

Mark Twain and the Interviewer. 

Daybreak. 

True Life. 

Modern Loyalty. 

Uufluished Still. 

Allow for the Crawl. 

The Silent Tower of Bottreaux. 

Gentility. 

The Drunkard. 

The Poetical Patch Quill. 

What is Life? 

Art Thou Living Yet? 

New Year's Chime. 

Song of the Chimney. 

A Domestic Tempest. 

Common Sense. 

How Mr. Coffin Spelled it. 

The Old Man in the Palace Car. 

Ego and Echo. 

A Night Picture. 

A Penitent. 

Rum's Ruin. 

The Babies. 

What Is It to Me? 

Our First Commander. 

Horseradish. 

The Doom of Claudius and Cynthia 



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RECITATION SERIES. 

PRICE POST-PAID. PAPER, 25c. 

•'Tke selections are fresh, pure, and elevating."— Jifmouri Teacher. 

CONTENTS OF No. 2. 

Albert Drecker, Pathetic Thomas J. Hyatt 5 

Better in the Morning, Pathetic Eev. Leander S. Coan 6 

Blue Sky Somewhere Vera 9 

Wounded, Battle Poem J. W. Watson Ig 

Papa's Letter, Pathetic 14 

Grandfather's Reverie, Pathetic Theodore Parker 16 

The Old Village Choir Be/ij- F. Taylor 18 

At the Party Elizabeth Stuart Phelps 19 

Romance at Home, Humorous Fanny Fern 21 

The Legend of the Organ Builder Harper's Magazine 22 

I Vaeh So Glad I Vash Here, very Humorous 25 

Dcr Dogund der Lobster, Humorous Saul Sertrew 26 

What VVasHis Creed?... 28 

Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery Abraham Lincoln 29 

Time Turns the Table, Excellent 30 

The Man Who Hadn't Any Objection, Humorous 32 

The Soldier's Mother, Sentimental 33 

"De Pervisious, Josiar." Humorous 34 

A Response to Beautiful Snow, Sentimental Sallie J. Hancock 35 

The Defence of Lucknow, Heroic Tennyson 36 

A Model Discourse, Humorous 41 

My Darling's Shoes 43 

The Volunteer Soldiers of the Union Robert G. IngersoU- 44 

Life, Compilation Mrs. H. A. Darning 46 

The Old-Fashioned Mother 47 

De "Sperience ob de Reb'rend Quacko Strong, Humorous 48 

A Heart to Let 50 

Jimmy Butler and the Owl, Humorous Anonymous 51 

Presentiments, Pathetic T. S. Deinson 54 

Eloq^uence or Oratory 56 

Baieingthe Flag at Sumter Henry Ward Beecher 57 

Parrhasius and the Captive N. P. Willis .59 

Portent Celixi Thaxter .62 

He Wasn't Read}', Humorous 63 

The Old Clock in the Comer Eugene J. Hall 64 

An Illustration, Fine Description Hev. Philip Itrohn, D. D. 66 

The Seven Stages Anonymous 68 

The Bells of Shandon Francis Mahony 69 

Circumlocution on The House that Jack Built, Fine 71 

The Brakeman goes to Church, Humorous Burdette 73 

Address to Class of '7^', Knox College President Bafeman 76 

Bay Billy, Battle Incident Frank H. Gassaway 78 

The Flood and the Ark, Humorous Darkey Sermon 83 

The Steambost Race Mark Twain 85 

Battle of Gettysburg Chas. F. Ward 90 

A Connubial Eclogue, Humorous J. G. Saxe 93 

The Chambered Nautilus Oliver W. Holmes 95 

Ascent of Fu-si-Yama Bora Schoonmaker Soper 96 

The Musician's Tale, Splendid Sea Tale ■ Longfellow 98 

Vera Victoria H. M. Soper 104 

Ruining the Minister's Parrot, very Funny 106 

The Irish Philosopher, Humorous '.'........'....'. 109 

Confession of a Drunkard - '."..'.. Ill 

The Fatal Glass ' ....Laura't/."ca's'e 111 

The Gambler's Wife R, Coates 112 

Dream of the Reveler 114 

The Lost Steamer '.'.'.'.'.Eugene J. Hail 116 

One Glass More 117 

111 take what Father takes *". W.Hoyle 118 

A Glass of Cold Water '.'.'j'ohnB. Gough 120 

The Glass Railroad.... Qeo. Lippard 121 

Signing the Pledge . . i23 

The War with Alcohol .. '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'w. E. 'wil'liarns 126 

A Tragedy Talmage 128 



THE ETHIOPIAN DRAMA. 

Price, 15 cts. eachfpoat-paid. 

These plays are all short, and very funny. Nothing' poor in the list. The-,- 
serve admirably to give variety to a propT-amme. The female characters may b:. 
assumed by males in most cases. Where something thoroughly comical, b..'.u 
unobjectionable is -wanted, they are just the thing. 

STAGE STRUCK DARKT. 

A very funny " take-off" on tragedy ; 2 male, i female. Time 10 minutes. 
STOCKS UF— STOCKS DOWN. 

a males; a played-out author and his sympathizing friend; very funny and full 
of " business " and practical jokes. Time 10 minutes. 

DEAF— IN A MOBN. 

2 males; negro musician and a deaf pupil. A very interesting question sudden« 
ly enables the latter to hear. Full of first-class " business." Time S minutes. 

HANDT ANOT. 

2 males; master and servant. The old man is petulant and L ■; servant makes 
ill sorts of ludicrous mistakes and misunderstands every order. Very lively in 
Kction^ Time 10 minutes. 

TME MISCHIEVOVS NIGGER, 

A farce; 4 males, 2 females. Characters: The mischievous nigger, old mac, 
f'rench barber, Irishman, widow, nurse. Time 20 minutes. 

TSE SHAM DOCTOR. 

A negro farce ; 4 males, 2 females. This is a tip-top farce. The "sham doctor" 
estR not fail to bring down the house. Time 15 minutes. 

NO CURE, NO PAY. 

3 males, i female. Doctor Ipecac has a theory that excessive terror will cure 
people who are deaf and dumb. His daughter's lover is mistaken for the patient 
to the terror of all. Only one darky. A capital little piece for schools or parlor. 
Time 10 minutes. 

TRICKS. 

5 males, 2 females. (Only two darkys, i male, i female.) A designing old 
etep-father wishes to marry his step-daughter for her money. She and her lover 
plan an elopement. The old man discovers it and has an ingenious counter-plot — 
^hich fails completely, to his discomfiture. Time 10 minutes. Suited to parlc 
performance. 

HAUNTED HOUSE. 

3 males. A white-washer encounters "spirits" in a house he has agreed to 
white-wash. Plentj- of business. Time 8 minutes. 

THE TWO POMPEYS. 

4 males. A challenge to a duel is worked up in a very funny way. Time 
S minutes. 

AM UNHAPPY PAIR. 

3 males, and males for a band. Two hungry niggers strike the musician? 
for a E<\uare meal. Good for school or parlor, and very funny. Time lo minuits. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



Any Play on this List 15 Cts. Postpaid q q^j aqi '™'"l^ll"l 



Plays by T. S. DENISON. 

ODDS WITH THE ENEMY. 

A drai.ia in five acts; 7 male and 4 fe- 
male charuclors. Time, 2 hours. 

SETH GREENBACK. 

A drama in four acts ; 7 male and 3 fe- 
male. Time, 1 hour 15 m. 

INITIATING A GRANGER. 

A ludicrous farce ; S male. Time, 25 m. 

TWO GHOSTS IN WHITE. 

A humorous farce based on boarding- 
school life; 7 female characters. Time, 
25 m. 

THE ASSESSOR, 
A Ininiorous sketch; 3 male and 2 fc- 
mnlc;. Time, 15 m. 

BORROWING TROUBLE. 
A ludicrous farce; 3 male and J fe- 
!.jait% Time, 30 m. 

COUNTRY JUSTICE. 
A very amusing- country law suit; S 
male characters. (May admit 14.) Time, 
15 m. 

THE PULL-BACK. 
A laughable farce; 6 female. Time, 
20 min. 

HANS VON SMASH. 
A roaring- farce in a prologue and one 
act; 4 male and 3 female. Time, 30 m. 

OUR COUNTRY. 

A patriotic drama in three parts. Re- 
quire-; 9 male, 3 female, (Admits 9 male 
It female.) Four fine tableaux. Time, 
about I hour. 

THE SCHOOL MA'AM, 

A briliant comedy in four acts; 6 male, 
5 female. Time, 1 hour 45 min. 

THE IRISH LINEN PEDDLER. 

A lively farce; 3 male, 3 female. Time, 

THE KANSAS IMMIGRANTS; Or, the 
Great Exodus. 

A roaring farce; 5 male, I female. 
Time, 30 m. 

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING. 

A splendid farce; 3 male, 6 female. 
Time, 43 m. 

IS THE EDITOR IN? 

A farce ; 4 male and 2 female. 

AN ONLY DAUGHTER. 

A drama in three acts ; J male and 2 
female. Time, i hour 15 m. 

PETS OF SOCIETY. 

A firce in high life ; 7 females. Time, 
30 m. 



HARD CIDER. 

A very amusing temperance sketch ; 4 
male, 2 female. Time, 20 m. 

LOUVA, THE PAUPER. 

A drama in five acts; 9 male and 4 fe- 
male characters. Time, i hour 45 m. 

UNDER THE LAURELS. 

A drama in five acts; a stirring play, 
fully equal '.o Lou va the Pauper. Five 
male, 4 fen-ale. Time, i hour 45 m. 

THE SPARKLING CUP. 

A temperance drama in five acts; 12 
male and 4 female. 



Plays hy H. Ellio tt MoBride. 

ON THE BRINK. 

A temperance drama in two acts; 12 
male, 3 female. Time, i hour 45 in. 

A BAD JOB. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 30 m. 

PLAYED AND LOST. 

A sketch; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 
20 m. 

MY JEREMIAH. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 25 m- 

LUCY'S OLD MAN. 

A sketch; 2 male, 3 female. Time, 20 
m. 

THE COW THAT KICKED CHICAGO. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 25 m. 

I'LL STAY AWHILE. 

A farce; 4 male. Time, 25 m. 



THE FRIDAY AFTERNOON DIALOGUES, 

Short and livelj'. For boys and girls. 
— Price 26 cts. 



FRIDAY AFTERNOON SPEAKER* 

A choice collection. Three parts: for 
little folks, for older boys and girls, short 
pithy dialogues. — Pnce 25 cts. 

SCRAP BOOK READINGS. 

Latest and best pieces. — Price per No. 
{paper cover) 25 cts. 

WORK AND PLAY. 

BY MARY J. JACqUES. 

A gem for the little folks. This is a 
book of both instruction and amusement. 
Fart I consists of a large v'.riety of very 
easy progressive exercises in letters, 
numbers, objects, geogr.aphy, language, 
animated nature, motion, songs, etc. 
Part II consists of dialogues, charades, 
pantomimes, etc. all opaGiNAL. — Price, 
in Manilla boards, post paid, 50 cts. 

T. S. DENISON, Publisher, CHICAGO. 



